Knowing When to Fight
by SeekerOfNeed
Summary: A Joe/Barbie pairing set in the beginning of the show. Joe does not want to admit that he likes what he sees when he watches the mysterious stranger Barbie take down Officer Randolf. Barbie never knew he could think of some kid, especially some guy, as anything more then some punk.


**Joe**

I watched the video again, Officer Randolf losing it, Barbie taking him down. I watched it again and again always focusing on how Barbie moved so quickly, obtaining the gun each time. It wasn't until the tenth time that I watched it did I realize I didn't zoom in on the dying man but the living one. I put the phone down then and leaned back on my bed, staring at the dark ceiling. My vision blurred and focused as I tried to pin point exactly where the dark ended and the sheet rock began. Why was this stranger fascinating me so much? He was simply too cool for this town.

I turned over on my side and curled up with the silence surrounding me. I wished that my family was here when every other kid wished theirs wasn't. I heard a loud bang on the door. I jumped up and nearly tripped down the stairs. When I ripped open the door I was shoved back hard. A dark figure in a hoodie came at me. He punched me across the face and I dropped to the ground. He kicked me once in the ribs. I yelped as I spit blood from my busted lip. He reached down and grabbed me shirt pulling me up from the ground to hit me again in the face. He dropped me there bleeding. Pain seared through my head, it throbbed with the beat of my heart.

"I told you we weren't done you little bitch," he said spitting at me on the floor. I tried to cover myself somehow. He kicked me again, I could feel the rib crack under the pressure, I yelled out as he slammed the door to leave me where I lay. The blood seeped from my face onto the floor. I spit more from my mouth. I tried to push myself up, pain shot from my chest constricting my lungs. My arms buckled and I crumpled to the floor. The hardwood was cool on my hot face. My eyes wouldn't focus on the porch light through the window, it grew dimmer and farther until I couldn't see it anymore. I slipped into a deep pool of nothing. No sound, no light, no thought, and thankfully no pain.

I woke with a start. Early morning sun brushed passed the sheen curtain on the window. It touched the floor to the left of the blood I dripped. My head swam and black dots flurried around the edge of my vision. I tried to crane my neck back to see the clock but that only made the pain worse. I slowly worked my body up into a sitting position, my back rested against the wall across from the stairs. My pathetic choked breathing filled the space around me. Every breath brought a sharp pain, every exhale felt like my flesh was ripping. I stared with hate at the door, I burned with the thought of him coming in and beating the shit out of me. I hit my head back against the wall hard, fingers clenched into fists on the floor. The tears came against my strongest will. I felt broken. _Are you really that weak?_ My mind taunted me. _You can__'__t even protect yourself. _

The video of Barbie taking out Randolf flashed in bright focus through my hazy mind. He could show me how to fight, he could teach me. I pulled myself up quickly before I lost my nerve, the pain was becoming a dull throb. I awkwardly put my arms into my zip up cringing at the strain in my chest, by the time the hood was up concealing my face my breath was labored. I gritted my teeth and pushed through the door out into vivid sunlight.

**Barbie**

"I need you to show me how to fight," a kid in a zip up said standing on the porch, his head was down, his face hidden. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, pulling at the jacket's fabric. I stood with a half smile on my lips. I crossed my arms over my own chest and leaned on Julia's door frame.

"I need to do nothing," I said tilting my head down slightly trying to glimpse the kids face. He whipped his head up and stared hard into me.

"Please," he asked breathlessly. His face was a wreck, one eye swollen shut, a cut across his cheek. I could feel my face change from playful defiance into confused anger. It was that kid Joe from before.

"Who did this?" I asked reaching for him. He took an involuntary step back, catching his sneaker on a raised piece of wood. He stumbled off balance and I quickly moved in taking hold of him and leading the battered kid into the house. I moved him to the kitchen and sat him down on a stool. His face cringed, I saw his eyes dart to the floor as he tried to push away whatever pain he was feeling. I knew that face, he was trying to be brave in front of me. If I wasn't so angry I would have laughed.

"I'm sorry, I should've stayed home," he quickly said while trying to stand. I gently pushed him back down.

"Did you crack a rib? I can see how you're favoring your right side and of course taking shallow breaths. Hurts doesn't it? Take off the jacket and the shirt. Let me get a good look at you," I sighed ignoring his apology. I turned to all the daunting cream colored cabinets and drawers, _I need a dish towel and a bowl_ I told myself. As I rummaged around the kitchen I could hear him gingerly taking off the zip up, the metal of the zipper clinked on the floor as the fabric crumpled down. I turned around with the bowl and towel in hand, he was struggling with his t-shirt. I stood in front of him and crossed my arms.

"I don't need your help, I can do it," he whined as the shirt did little to be removed. The fabric was stiff in my fingers, dried blood covered a lot of it. I pulled the bottom hem up slowly, trying not to hurt him much. His breath caught when he lifted his arms, I pulled quickly to get the rest of the shirt up and over. He dropped his arms and looked up to me, I was standing very close, the metallic smell of his blood filled my nose as I inhaled. He looked into me. I stepped back quickly and ignored what ever moment just may have happened. I filled the bowl with water and dipped the towel in it.

I ignored the deep bruises that spread across his chest and went to work on the dried blood on his face. The towel came down on a bruise and he jerked back, my hand gripped his chin to try to hold him still. He jerked back again.

"Do you want me to help you or what?" I asked only a little frustrated. I took his silence as an affirmation. I put my hand on the back of his neck this time holding him firmly in place. His hair was soft there and tickled my fingers. I took the towel and brought it to his skin, pulling it slowly down, cleaning the scratches. I brought it back up and went over his eye brow pulling it down the side of his face. Some blood had dripped down his neck, I washed that off next. The hardest part was getting it out of his hair. I ran my fingers through his hair breaking apart the pieces that had stuck together, I had to do this a few times to get it all. His face was easy enough to clean up, it still looked like shit but at least there was no dried blood caked all over it. His rib would be the hard part. I dropped the bloodied towel into the bowl of now red water and stepped back.

"Thanks," he said to the floor, his eyes looked everywhere but me.

"Don't thank me yet, I still have to look at that rib," I said as I leaned in closer. I tried to tell if it was broken but the angle I was looking was off. I bent my knees a bit but it was too uncomfortable. I stood up straight, "Here come and sit on a table chair, the stool's a little too high. I want to get a good look," I said as he stood up and walked to the other chair sitting down with a thump, knees apart and hands in his lap. I noticed just then he was wearing pajama pants, _this must have happened last night maybe at his house_ I thought through many different scenarios. I got close and crouched in between his knees. I looked at the darkened bruise and reached out my hand, laying it across the darkest part of the bruise. I lost my balance and leaned my other arm on his leg to steady myself. His skin was hot under my fingers, soft. I pressed slightly, he reacted instantly jumping a bit.

"Oww that hurt!" he said a few tones higher than his normal. I rubbed my hand over the bruise coming to a verdict.

"It's either bruised or cracked. Nothing to be done but to let it heal. It's not broken at least," I said pushing myself up using his thighs to get me there. The door opened and closed in the other room. Julia walked into the kitchen as I was handing Joe his shirt and zip up.

"Oh my god what happened?" she said as her red hair bounced, her eye brows pulled together suspiciously, always a journalist looking for a story, or just unsure about the man who killed her husband. It could really go either way.

"Someone beat him up and he won't tell me who," I said back as unsuspicious as I could manage. Her husband's dead face swam before my eyes.

"It's nothing Mrs. Shumway," Joe spoke, "I've got to go," he jumped up from the chair pulling on his t-shirt.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Julia said as she grabbed for him, "Joe!" she called after the kid. I stayed in the kitchen away from whatever drama was unfolding. I cleaned the bowl and rinsed the towel out the best I could. Julia came back in a few minutes later.

"Is he gone?" I asked her. She breathed out heavily pulling her hand across the back of her neck.

"Yes. Why did he come to you and not go to the clinic?" she asked suspicion back on her face.

"I couldn't tell you he just showed up on the front porch," I said while motioning to the door.

**Joe**

Days passed and I stayed locked up in my house. The generator was back on but really touchy. It would start and stop without warning. I looked at my face in the bathroom mirror, my eye wasn't so bad now but my chest still had a pretty nice bruise. At the center it was deep purple, but around the edges it was starting to turn yellow. It still hurt when I breathed but not so bad now. I jumped at the sound of a knock on the door, _god damn it, _I thought to myself. I went down the stairs slowly and peeked out the window before opening the door. I pulled it only enough to look out. Barbie pushed right in no problem.

"Hey haven't seen you around. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said while looking around my house, "What smells like its burning?"

"The generator, it blew up a few days ago. I fixed it but it still smells a bit burnt," I said with a half smile on my lips.

"A bit, wow," Barbie said smiling back. He walked deeper into my house so I just shut the door, giving up on the whole being anti social bit, "You said you were here alone?"

"Yeah my mom was a town over, dad working, and I guess my sister wasn't in town when the dome came down I haven't seen her since that morning," I said as plainly as I could.

"How are you holding up?" Barbie asked looking right at me.

"How are you holding up? You don't even live here, just passing through, right?" I shot right back. He smiled again. I really liked his smile.

"You got me. I guess I don't have any reason to be asking you," he said as he sat back on the arm of the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. The fabric pulled tight against his toned arms. He looked comfortable in my house. I looked at my shoes for a bit, his eyes were too intense, staring at me.

"Uh so, will you please teach me how to fight?" I asked sheepishly still watching the worn out carpet.

"Maybe," he said back, "how are you going to pay me? My fighting services don't come cheap," he said with a sarcastic tone.

"You could stay here if you wanted to get a little more out of town, away from everything," I said looking right back into his eyes. How he was sitting made our eyes level. He looked away first smiling a little.

"Looks like we have a deal," he said while walking to me with an outstretched hand. As our skin touched I felt a warmth spread from my lower abs. I smiled again. "I'll be back later tonight with my bag," he said as he looked into my eyes. We let go of each other's hands and he headed to the door. I turned around to see him smile at me and close the door behind himself.

I ran to the window and discreetly watched him walk down the road. When he rounded the bend I ran to my room and closed the door, I couldn't take it anymore. His smile, his laugh, how he was running his fingers through my hair, his fingers spread over my chest, his hands on my thighs. I leaned back on the door and unzipped my jeans. _One hand, that__'__s all it would take _I told myself. One hand, his hand? I lifted mine from my side.

"No," I breathed out hard. _You are not gay_ I tried to tell myself even though I knew it was a lie, _you__'__re not a freak like that,_ I yelled in my head even though I knew I was. I pushed off the door and fell onto my bed, "I'm so hard," I groaned. That was it I didn't care anymore, _it was the end of the fucking world right? Who__'__s gonna care if I think guys are hot? _I reached down and gripped my hard dick, I pulled up once, a moan escaped through my lips. I could almost feel his hands running through my hair, or the pressure of them on my thighs. I imagined it was him doing this to me, my rhythm increased. His hand pulling at me, his lips kissing my neck, across my jaw, kissing _my_ lips. Soft at first, his stubble tickling my face, harder later with more need and passion. My hips thrusted slightly into my fist, it was a natural motion I barely noticed I was doing. I could feel I was almost done, and he was getting me there. I threw my other arm over my face as I worked myself to climax. My rib hurt as my breathing became labored. Low moans tumbled from my lips, I couldn't stop them even if I wanted to. I was so close.

"Barbie," came from my mouth as cum shot from my dick. I rode out the orgasm and just laid there, "Fuck," was all I could say. My chest heaved and I cringed each time as a pain shot from my rib. The pain cleared my head nicely. I looked down at my limp penis and thought about what I just did, "Fuck," I said as my head fell back. Not like I hadn't jerked off before, just never seriously to a guy. I remembered all the porn I'd seen where I'd be jerking off thinking it was the girl I liked while I paid more attention to the guy. I couldn't believe Barbie was going to be living here. What was I going to do?

**Barbie**

_This kid might _like_ me,_ I thought as we sparred. I couldn't put my finger on why I thought it but I did.

He worked really hard, never to beat me but to improve himself, he knew he couldn't beat me even if I only had one good arm. He threw too much of himself into a right hook, he lost his footing and when I side stepped him his entire back was open to me. I knocked his arm down and pulled him into a light head lock.

"Fuck," he said winded, "and you're not even trying," he continued whinning.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" I whispered softly into his ear wondering what he would do. He shoved out of the head lock and turned to me ready.

"Again," he said confidentially. I loosened up my stance.

"Nah, that's it for today. I'm done," I said waiting for him to disarm. It didn't take long.

"Aw Barbie please?" he asked unaware that I was about to attack. I lunged at him with a left, he stepped to his left my right just out of the way of the punch but in the way of my entire body. He actually grabbed my shoulders and turned me to fall onto my back. He landed with a thud on top of me, his legs straddled my waist and his forearm was pushed under my chin into my neck. I was thoroughly impressed, too bad.

"Well, good job. Now get off me," I said a little gruff, I wouldn't say he was hurting me or anything but I wouldn't say he wasn't trying, maybe a little. A small smile spread over his features and his grip loosened slightly. I pushed up as fast as I could manage, rolling both of us over. Joe hit the dirt first, me coming down on top of him, at that moment all thoughts of him being a confused kid with possible feelings for me were gone from my head, I was in attack mode and all I had to do was pin him. I didn't think about what I might be doing to him.

It all worked out pretty well, since he was straddling me I landed between his spread legs, grabbing his wrists I pulled him to me as I went back onto my knees. I then fell forward crushing his wrists above his head on the ground. Nearly every part of our bodies were touching, I laid heavily on him, our faces were inches apart. His face was flushed and his breathing a bit labored, "The only good enemy is unconscious or dead, and even unconscious is risky," I said to him, watching him squirm.

He valiantly tried to break the hold I had on him but I wasn't letting go. He moved around as much as he could, fighting to get out. His face was becoming more and more red, a scarlet tone spread from his neck to his ears. I wanted him to submit, for whatever reason I wanted to dominate him. Normally I would have gotten off him quickly corrected what he did wrong and showed him how he should have taken me down, but not this time I made no move to get up and he felt that. He stopped rubbing his body all over mine in an attempt to escape, his head fell back onto the ground and he completely stilled, he wouldn't look me in the eye.

"You win. I know I can't beat you, so will just get off me," he said completely defeated. I released his wrists and sat back on my knees, triumph was sparking up in my stomach, he was practically still in my lap so he scooted back, he stood up and turned to go back into the house.

"I never said you couldn't beat me," I called after him as I stood up. He slammed the door as he went in and I followed in time.

In the den I grabbed the bottle of scotch that Joe said had belonged to his dad and the glass that sat next to it. I picked a nice big armchair to relax on. I pulled the ottoman up close, kicked off my shoes, and sank into the chair with my very full glass of alcohol. I heard the shower kick on upstairs and I began drinking. Joe wasn't far from my thoughts at any given moment those days but that day in particular, as the sun sank below the tree line I couldn't get the kid out of my head.

His smile when I praised him, the half smile I didn't think he knew I saw. He was a great kid but the thoughts that maybe he liked me more that a friend and mentor kept creeping in. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me and he'd always play it off somehow. Hour long cold showers after every time we sparred, I assumed they were cold because when I would go in after an hour of the water running there would be no steam and the shower tiles would be cold. His face would get red whenever I stood too close to him, or my arm brushed his in the hall. All these little things were nagging at me. I poured myself another glass, the shower was still going.

My conscious started to criticize my behavior earlier. I thought about the two sneak attempts, that was never really my thing. His face swam into my mind as he sat straddling me, the way his chest raised and fell in a feeling of exhausted triumph, _I should__'__ve let him win,_ I thought. I wondered if he enjoyed being on top of me like that, nearly sitting on my-. _Shit_, I mentally slapped myself. Images of him squirming under me rushed into my head. I had him planted in my lap as I laid on top of him, if that wasn't cruel I didn't know what would have been. I wondered again if he liked me on top of him. I remembered the shade of red his face had turned. I didn't feel him then being in the mind of a soldier but I felt him sitting in that chair full of scotch. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to raise his arms. His hips pressed up into me, trying to wiggle free. His entire body rubbed over mine in any attempt to break my hold, and the whole time his ass sat on my groin, pinned against me and I held him down.

I felt a twitch from the man down below, he was beginning to stand to attention. _Did I like the thought of this kid?_ I questioned myself. _No it__'__s just been a while,_ I tried to tell myself. Time and scotch that was all. My mind started to run off on its own. I could practically feel him moving under me, rubbing himself into me. This was no longer just a memory, it was becoming more than that. He started to gently thrust into me, rocking his hips against me, and before I knew what was happening I was doing the same right back to him. I could feel his heat, he was hard and I knew he felt me grinding into his ass. My head fell back onto the chair and my mouth opened slightly, my mind was gone in that fantasy and I was along for the ride.

**Joe**

I stood in my cold shower, jerking off harder than I ever had before. Just the thought of me sitting on his fucking dick could get me off but the fact that he just stayed there, on top of me, for what seemed like hours was almost too much to bare. I was amazed at myself that I hadn't gotten hard until I got in the house away from him, granted I was trying really hard not to think about the strong lower abdomen muscles flexing practically on top of my dick. I kept stroking myself with thoughts of him filling my head, the cold water did nothing to chill my nerves, if anything it made them more crisp, more pleasurable. I could almost feel his breath in my ear promising pain.

After an hour long shower I got out and wrapped a towel around my waist, I was a bit raw and the scratchy fabric of the towel wasn't helping much. I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I passed, muscles were starting to become more defined but nothing really was different. I shoved off to my room and got dressed quickly, I headed downstairs to scrounge around for some food.

I came into the den to find Barbie passed out, all open mouth sleeping, in the big armchair. I took a step closer and stopped, he was hard. It was definite, he was pitching a tent right in my presence and I immediately wondered what he was dreaming about. I thought of all of my dreams of him and I could only hope he would ever in a million years think about me even remotely like that. I flopped down into the chair next to his, I knew he'd be dreaming about some hot woman, probably Mrs. Shumway or someone like that. I decided to tell that the shower was open just to end what ever pleasurable dream he was having.

"Barbie, hey wake up," I said leaning toward his chair a bit more. I could just imagine what his dick would feel like in my hand. When he jumped awake it scared the shit out of me, I jumped back.

"Shit sorry, I passed out, that damn scotch," he grumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"So uh, good dream was it?" I taunted as I leaned my elbows on my knees giving him a little half smile.

"Shut up," he said drawling out both words, with no witty come back to finish the statement off. He tried to sit up but failed, he had sunk so low into the chair it was difficult to move, I knew from experience. He began trying to rock himself out of the chair and I just laughed at the sight. I stood up and extended my hand.

"Here need some help," I offered.

"I'm already up. Are ya gonna get me down?" He asked suggestively laughing at his own joke. He took my hand and I pulled him up. I didn't know how to respond so I just glanced around and spotted the bottle of scotch.

"Wow now I get what's going on here, you nearly finished the bottle," I said in amazement. He looked at the bottle and shrugged.

"Have you ever had it?" he asked me eyeing up the remainder of the bottle.

"Well a little but, I don't know, I've never been like, passed out drunk or anything," I stammered out, embarrassed about how unexperienced I was with everything. He laughed out loud.

"Good, it's no fun once you reach that point, here have the rest," he chuckled as he pushed the bottle to me, "Just don't drink alone, that's when it gets weird," he laughed again, obviously more for himself then for me.

"What, now?" I stare at him a bit disbelieving.

"Go on, take a sip," he motioned to me and I raised the bottle to my lips already inhaling the burn of the liquor. I sucked too much in and it really did burn as it went down, I coughed and nearly spit it right out. He slapped me on the back and laughed yet again at my expense as he turned to head to the shower. I put the bottle down on the end table with a clink, _that was disgusting,_ I thought, _who wants to drink that crap_.

I fell onto the couch debating whether or not to put a dvd in when I started to feel the warmth spread in my stomach and how touching things felt just a bit different. Maybe these were the good effects. I stared at the bottle wondering if I should take another sip when I heard the shower shut off. I thought about how easy it would be to go upstairs and just accidentally see Barbie changing, walk right up to him and kiss him. I sat straight up and my head swam a bit. I knew I could feel the alcohol then and another shot would have been disastrous.

I slumped back into the couch still sitting up. This was just becoming cruel and unfair. The man was completely unaware of what I wanted from him and the worst part was that he sometimes treated me like a girl, flirted a bit, joked around as if something could happen. At least that's how it came off to me. I just wanted to feel him on me again, his hard body touching every part of me. I even liked it sitting on top of him, straddling his waist. _Ugh,_ my mind groaned out exasperated.

"Fuuuck." I said to the empty room. As if on cue, the generator crapped out, plunging me and my thoughts into darkness.


End file.
